Fading Light
by undyingfire
Summary: After failing to correct a wrong choice, Christine must live with her mistake. It is during the worst of times that she is given a second chance, and she will act upon the realization she made long ago-she needs and loves the man in the darkness.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: POTO is obviously not mine. If it were, Raoul would not exist.

Oh, how I wish

Starts at the end of the musical/movie. I've seen the musical a few times, it pretty much the same as the movie. Just if you didn't know. ;)

Summary:  
After failing to correct a wrong choice, Christine must live with her mistake. It is during the worst of times that she is given a second chance, and she will act upon the realization she made long ago-she needs the man in the darkness, not the one that she once associated with light.

* * *

Fading Light  
Prologue

_It's over now, the music of the night!_

_Though she did not hear it from her ears, she heard it nonetheless. The pained declaration replayed over and over in her head until she couldn't focus enough to keep her legs moving. Somehow his words spoken to no specific person had reached her, and tormented her. It was enough to bring her back to her senses and out of the daze she'd been in since leaving the depths of the Opera._

_"Christine?"_

She looked up at him, at his confused expression. She doubted hers was different. He was breathing heavily, and turned for a moment to glance at the waiting carriage some ways behind him. He was still very wet, and she knew that the chilly, breezy weather wasn't in his favor. They had run out of the Opera hand in hand, trying to escape from what wasn't actually following them. He was more pulling her along then she was running by herself, prevented by her state of mind, which had just now begun to fade.

"Christine? Why are you standing there?! Let's go!" He made urgent gestures with his hands in an attempt to make her hurry, but it failed. "Your things will be brought with us, everything! Christine!"

She made to move, but only managed a step. She _did_ want to go, didn't she?

"No…" Christine said as it dawned on her that no, she didn't want to leave. She looked up at the cloudy sky, as if to silently as God if she was right. Thanking the Heavens she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her life, she looked back at him. "Raoul…"

"Yes. I am Raoul. Correct. Now _please_ Christine let's go!"

_Christine…_

She recalled how he had whispered her name into the darkness, how it echoed among the shadows. That enthralling voice that had drawn her to him so many times… she wished it were there at that moment to pull her back. Christine didn't know if she could on her own. She knew, then, she couldn't go. But she couldn't leave Raoul… she loved him!

Christine was torn between the urge to cry and to turn and run back. Settling on half of both, she turned he back to Raoul and her vision blurred with tears.

_"Raoul, I… I can't go with you." Christine hugged herself around the waist and bit her lip. "I… I'm so sorry, Raoul." _

He looked at the back of her head as it drooped, and was completely overrun with confusion. "Christine… what?" Blinking a few times, he walked back a bit towards her. "Come now, turn around and we'll go home. _Our_ home. Philippe's not in town, so it should be pretty quiet. Soon we'll have our very own house, and then everything will be perfect!" Raoul went the rest of the small distance between them and put his hands on her shoulders. Leaning over her right one, he whispered to her. "Don't worry about anything. You should be happy. Relax. Now come with me and I'll help you into the carriage." He released her shoulders and gently grabbed her right hand, slowly taking her with him. Christine seemed to have fallen back into her previous daze. It was fine if she was still a little stressed.

After all, the whole recent ordeal had been quite… interesting.

Raoul only had a few steps with her, and then she just stopped. He made to go again, but Christine wouldn't move. In fact, she pulled her hand slowly away from his. "Raoul, please… I'm so terribly sorry. I can't leave with you. Please understand-"

"Would you rather leave _without_ me?" he interrupted. "Because that's just as well. Though it would have been much more enjoyable to be together on the trip back. But if you really must-"

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm trying to say, Raoul." She felt so very guilty and horrible to him, but it would be worse to go and feign her happiness than to leave him now and let him go on. "Please…"

Raoul couldn't believe what he saw. Christine was pleading with him to leave her! At the _Opera_ no less! _I won't have it, _he thought. _I worked hard to free you, and now that we're together again it _will_ stay that way. _"I don't know what's wrong with you, Christine, but you aren't yourself. Now stop being so foolish! Come with me!" He wasn't shouting, but his tone was firm. It frightened her.

"No, Raoul," she said while shaking her head. The sudden movement shook the forming tears in her eyes out and onto her face. "Go. Go on and be happy… I can't do that for you. And I know now… it wouldn't be right… This is wrong, Raoul. We can't do this. We're fooling ourselves with this."

"Christine," he said, taking a step and straightening up, "_you_ are the one who's being fooled. There is nothing for you here!"

"There is!" she screamed. Though it had been quiet before, now there was no sound at all. Only Christine's ragged breathing from crying and running were heard. "Everything is here! My _life_ is here!"

"Your life is with _me!_" Anger was rapidly filling Raoul and pushing out his patience. There was only so much room, and it had run out. "Christine, you _will_ leave, with _me_, and _now!_" He was furious. Something was wrong with Christine, she must have been spellbound! She would _never _refuse _him_! She was his, and she was going with him.

"I said no, Raoul, and I meant it! Now just go and leave me!" The new resolve in her gave her enough power to finally deny him, and she took a few steps back while facing him.

"I can't do that, Christine. Stop that, now. Stop walking away!" He frowned as she continued to move. "Christine!"

"Go, Raoul. Go now. I'm sorry, but I have to stay. Goodbye, Raoul." Christine's voice began to crack, its supreme strength and power disappeared. Raoul advanced on her, at the same speed she was walking backwards. She felt a bit of fear pinch her, and quickened her step-only to be mimicked by Raoul. He really wasn't going to leave. He was going to _make_ her go! _No! I'm not leaving! He can _not_ make me go! I do love you, Raoul, but I'm not _in_ love with you! Stop Raoul! _"Raoul, stop! Go back! Leave me here! _Go!_"

But he continued to follow her, and Christine was now thoroughly scared. He wasn't one to be angry. But such rage in his eyes… she was terrified of what he might do. _This _can't_ be happening! No!_ Christine chocked on a sob, trying so very hard not to cry. _What's happened to you Raoul?_

Fed up with the chase, he lengthened his stride and covered twice as much ground. Christine saw him rapidly approaching and closing the distance she had put between them. He was going to catch her! Catch her and physically force her into the carriage and away forever! She would never return! _NO!_

Christine turned and bolted.

Raoul was right behind her, she knew. All she had to do was make it to the front doors of the Opera… but she also knew it was impossible. Christine was but a woman, petite even, and was no match for her fiancée. Though she went farther than she thought she could, all too soon she felt his arms around her from behind, trapping her.

The next moments were all a blur to Christine. The coachman was there, though she could barely hear the horse shoes clattering on the cobblestone street. She did not remember there being any other people around to witness the embarrassing scene, just Raoul. She struggled and panicked and tried to cry out, but she seemed to have lost her voice. The whole thing was simply unreal. The one she loved-or used to love-grabbed her and somehow forced her inside the covered vehicle. There was no one to help her. She would never see this place again.

She was trapped.

The now freely flowing tears could not express the sorrow she felt knowing this was the last time she would see her beloved Opera and the memories it held. Christine began to feel drowsy inside the carriage, still held, struggling, by Raoul as it began to move. It was over. He would write a note giving some false reason for the hasty departure and she would never see her friends again. Christine had failed herself. Failed to keep her dream of singing and expressing herself and making people smile. She had failed her father, too. And Meg. And… and him.

In a last, desperate cry for help she called out to him, as the Opera house became farther away.

"_Erik!_"

But he did not come. He wouldn't, she knew. Not after what she had done. He couldn't have heard her anyway… but her heart still called to him. And it did again, silently, many times. It was the last thing she spoke before her body gave in completely to the mysterious fatigue, and all was dark.

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Well well well it's been manymanymany years since I've written anything for at all! Upon realizing this, I've deleted all my previous (a whopping THREE, folks) stories and started anew! Mostly cause they sucked majorly. Whee! Anyway, this is my first phic, so be nice. Or mean. Or whatever. Just be _something_! Reviewing is nice! :) Oh and check back quick, I've already got chapter 2 written. Yay!  



	2. Into the Night

Disclaimer: POTO is obviously not mine. If it were, I would be in it.

Alas.

* * *

Fading Light

Chapter One - Into the Night

She looked up at the sky. It was grey. It was cloudy. It was depressing.

It was as if the weather had been taken from Christine's state of mind.

Cold, biting air swirled around her as she sat on an off-white, wooden rocking chair on the balcony attached to the master bedroom. Her bedroom. His bedroom. She sighed.

The grey color of the cement of the balcony floor mirrored that of the clouds in the sky, and when she looked straight up at them she felt light-headed. Christine resisted the urge to look back down, thinking it was perhaps a good thing if her dizziness caused her to faint. At least then she wouldn't be able to think about anything. Everything. Her life.

Christine realized it was more of the lack of a life she had. Always kept in the house, out of sight, away from prying eyes… lest someone see her. She was a prisoner inside her own home, what could have been her dream home, and life. And husband. But he wasn't always around.

A sudden, sharp wind gushed by and stung Christine's uncovered face, and she winced at the cold. Her cheeks, nose, and ears were almost numb from the late fall weather. The November temperature brought a splash of pink to her pale face, but her skin wasn't exactly one solid color anymore. Naturally, Christine had a porcelain complexion, her creamy skin was pale, yet flawless and smooth. It was a large component of her majestic beauty, her skin, and she was proud of it.

But her daily bathing and skin care wasn't enough to keep it clear anymore, for there are other things than blemishes that can be found on a face. The cold finally forced Christine back through the sliding glass door and into her room when her fingers and toes joined the list of freezing body parts. She slowly closed the door behind her and pulled the ivory cotton drapes across, though there was no real need to. The closest neighbor was a little less than half a mile down the road that ran through the countryside where she lived.

It really was quite beautiful, the scenery was especially spectacular in the spring with all the rich foliage and flowering gardens. The deep colors of early and mid-autumn were impressive as well, turning all to gold and bronze. In the winter, a huge blanket of glimmering white snow would cover the ground as far as she could see, resembling a blanket made of some fabric unknown to any man. Christine had worn a dress once, long ago, that could compare to the stunning color of the freshly-fallen snow. In fact, she remembered, it was almost exactly three years ago that she had.

Three years she had lived in this house. A small mansion, you could call it. Ivory with a creamy, light yellow on the shutters to match the double doors at the front entrance, it stood near the top of a hill surrounded by a classic white picket fence.

It disgusted her. The house and setting were almost exactly what Christine had envisioned as a fairy-tale dream home, but the magnitude to which the dream of hers had been corrupted and spoiled ruined the purity and beauty of the house for her. It was all so… _fake_. It wasn't because of preference that they lived so far into the countryside, it was for isolation. So she would not be able to leave on her own, which had never happened. Christine had, of course, tried. But never once had she succeeded. After a while, she simply gave up. Her soul was too weary from false hope and destroyed dreams that she just couldn't do it anymore.

Her freedom was forfeit, and she was totally miserable. Christine had almost completely lost her will to fight. Never could she have imagined such a future.

Releasing the drapes, which she had been holding up until now, she walked over to the full-length mirror attached to the inside of the left door to her large closet, which was open. She was wearing a simple, pale coral dress. It had fitting sleeves, and a boat neck that was trimmed with a darker coral ribbon that tied into a small bow at the front. The thin ribbon reached all the way down to the bottom of the v-neck collar, which went just past the bottom of Christine's collarbone. A simple, matching wool shawl laid loosely about her shoulders, and she removed it and hung it on a hook next to the mirror.

Her dark hair was half up, and the part that was down framed her face. Christine had made it that way yesterday, styling it so that some stray locks would fall in front of the far-right side of her face. In that position, it shaded and disguised the discoloration covering the edge of the corner of her jaw.

Christine sighed lightly, and turned away from her reflection. It was taunting her, reminding her of the cruelest aspects of her life.

All was well for about the first year, or well enough, Christine never wished to be there in the first place. As soon as they had arrived, Christine had gone mad with rage and released all her anger on Raoul. She demanded that he take her back, but it never happened. They fought constantly, and he always came up with excuses for why they couldn't leave. As time passed, she protested less.

Christine took matters soon after into her own hands and finally decided she would just leave. Yet she was never able to find a method of transportation. It was as if the world was against her. Christine couldn't simply walk, oh no. It was too far and she didn't know her way around. So she stayed put, restless at times and yearning for Paris.

Besides that, there were no other problems. Around the end of that year, everything had been settled in and she began to write to Meg. Christine had hoped to have a casual correspondence with her best friend, just to keep in touch, and later try to explain her situation in hopes of getting out of it when she deemed it safe to do so.

But Meg never wrote back. Perhaps, Christine thought, she was angry with her for leaving without saying goodbye. So instead, she tried to contact Meg's mother for an explanation. Surely there was some excuse for her unanswered letters. Yet Madame Giry failed to respond. This discouraged her greatly, and she was hurt that her best friend and former teacher would ignore her completely. Did they not care that she practically disappeared? What did Raoul tell them?? There had to be some reason she wasn't receiving and mail! Had Raoul told them that… she hated them? She didn't ever want to speak with them again? Threatened them? Told them she was dead??

Christine didn't know what to think. That is, until her first birthday at the new house. On her birthday, she received two letters! One letter from Meg, and even one from the managers at the Opera House! She had been so delighted! The letters were similar, both wishing her a happy birthday and telling her how she was missed. But there was something odd about Meg's letter. There was one specific passage that intrigued her. It read:

_"…now don't you be a stranger to me! I'd love to hear from you, and do tell me all about your pretty house! I bet it's absolutely gorgeous! I will expect a letter from you soon, Christine, And I look forward to it! Now let me tell you about the latest in gossip. Well, it seems that…"_

And it continued on about little pranks that the girls had been pulling on each other. But how strange, she thought… Meg seemed to think that Christine had not attempted to contact her. How curious, she had thought. She dismissed it as a simple mistake from the postman and that her letters had gotten lost in the mail. So she tried again, thanking them for thinking of her on her birthday. But there was no response. So Christine wrote again. And again. And again. But nothing ever came in the mail. She kept checking, for weeks, months even!

And she eventually gave up. She had no explanation, but there was nothing she could do. Occasionally, every few months or so, she would send a letter, but never got one back.

By the middle of the second year, everything changed. Raoul was at home less, and the servants seemed to be constantly watching her when she was about the house. When Raoul was home, he was usually working. On what, she had no idea.

But when he wasn't working, that was the time she disliked the most. He was rude, rash, and hastily jumped to conclusions. Christine remembered that once she was so tired that she skipped dinner and rested in bed. Later that evening, Raoul had stormed into the bedroom, shouting, and they had a heated argument that frightened Christine so much that afterwards she was shaking.

His bad attitude seemed to come and go for sometime, but around the start of the third year it dramatically went downhill. They constantly fought. He was stubborn and would never listen to her. Christine became less and less able to stand up to him. Raoul put her down, made degrading comments, and developed a violent temperament. More often he would slam doors, and was much more easily irritated and angered. Christine recalled him once throwing his wine glass against the wall when one of the maids told him she was quitting.

He drank wine casually at home, but sometimes Christine noticed him return late at night completely intoxicated. What Raoul had been drinking before he came home, she didn't know. Only that it was a lot.

It was during one of these days that he came home in a drunken rage. Christine remembered Raoul that day well. His face was flushed, and he couldn't seem to focus on what he was doing. Against her instincts, she had gone to him. How she later wished she hadn't. Christine could not fight the worry in her heart, however small it was. Upon reaching him, she inquired about his health, if he needed help, what had happened.

But he had lashed out at her! Accusing her of calling him weak and pathetic, shouting that she was out of place to ask him about his outside life. She was shocked, and stepped back at his outburst.

_"I was only concerned for you, Raoul, I didn't mean…" _she had said, her voice trailing off as she attempted not to cry. But he had only snapped back at her, calling her weak and stupid. Insulted, she challenged him back and defended herself, chiding his ludicrous behavior.

And then he hit her. Too fast for Christine to react, Raoul raised his hand to her and struck her across the face. Raoul, who had told her over and over again of his love and dedication, his loyalty, how she was everything to him, had hurt her. Christine never forgot the sharp, stinging pain on her cheek. Nor did she forget his forced and fake apologies. It never mattered later, he would always do it again. And he would say how sorry he was, and how he loved her so, and how it would never happen again. She believed him, the first time.

But it continued. Rarely, at first, but Raoul became more violent with time. His late nights coming home heavily under the influence of various types of alcohol were much more frequent, and then he was violent to her. His anger that seemed to have come from nowhere was unleashed on her, and it showed it multi-colored splashes across her body. Her bones had always remained intact, but there were always marks from his rage. There was no one to help her. When night came, he would never speak to her. He simply walked in, changed, and went to bed. It was the same every morning. For that, she was glad.

Christine was occasionally allowed to go out with Raoul or an escort to the market, or town square, or for a walk. She had tried to run a few times, but she was always caught quickly and faced the wrath of her husband. How he managed to get her to marry him she couldn't even remember. But the consequences of attempted escape were to harsh, and she ceased to try. Christine avoided Raoul to the best of her ability, for the fear that he stirred within her was overwhelming. She dreaded confrontation, and was only (close as she could be) at peace when she was alone in her room or on the balcony.

Christine often sat on the balcony all day, reading, or gazing into the distance. She would occasionally hum a random tune to herself, trying to pass the time.

But she never sang. Oh, no. Someone would hear her, and tell him. He did not let her sing. It was like a sin in that house, and she would not commit that crime. The punishment was too much for her to bear.

A sudden slam snapped her out of her thoughts and back to the reality she hated so very much. Christine knew that only Raoul slammed doors in this house, and she could tell he was mad.

Raoul was also home quite early, she hadn't expected his unpleasant presence until hours later. So, naturally, she did what any woman in her situation would do.

She panicked.

Christine would be trapped if she remained in the room, and couldn't just hide on the balcony. The closet wouldn't do, either. And she was running out of time. Soon he would storm up to the bedroom, and unleash his anger on her.

Christine flew out the door and down the winding marble staircase. Hearing his cursing in the study, she ran to the kitchen. Unfortunately, she also ran into Rosa, a maid and cook that was practically her only friend. In the house, at least. The short and plump Irish woman would always see to her after an episode with Raoul. Christine secretly confided in her, and had a shoulder to cry on during her saddest days. But this was the one time Christine was not happy to see Rosa.

Upon collision, Rosa dropped the plates she had been carrying and they hit the floor with a large _crash_. They looked at each other in wide-eyed terror, realizing that the incident would set Raoul off like a bomb. And now his attention was drawn to the kitchen. He would not hurt Rosa, no, for there were few people who would stay to work in that house. But Christine was in for it this time.

Before either woman could do something to avoid the rapidly approaching confrontation, Raoul was in the kitchen, and he was _angry._

"Monsieur, oh please do forgive me. I am so clumsy! But don't worry, I'll pay for the dishes out of my salary and everything will be fine. The Mistress was just about to help me clean up this mess, too, and-"

"I don't think so," Raoul said, cutting Rosa's hasty explanation and defense of Christine off. He was a very intelligent man, however rash. "Christine, I _know_ you did this! You cannot lie to me! What possessed you to lack such simple balance and competence that you couldn't even hold a stack of dishes?!"

"Raoul, I'm sorry! It… it was a s-simple mistake, I swear! I'll clean it all up right now and it'll be like nothing ever happened!" Christine quickly took all the blame and bent down, hastily using her bare hands to pick up the shattered plates. But Raoul was clearly _very_ intoxicated, and in an especially foul mood. He wasn't satisfied.

"Get up, _Christine_!" His yell and the tone with which he spoke he name made her wince, which was only worsened when she cut her left thumb on a tiny shard. Cradling her now bleeding finger, which was bleeding much indeed for a cut of its size, she remained kneeling on the marble tile floor.

Raoul wasn't in a mood to be disobeyed. Out of all the times he had been furious with her, this was most definitely the worst. Something must have happened before he came home, for his face was now as red as ever and his eyes bloodshot. Raoul was at her side suddenly that before she knew what was happening he grabbed her upper right arm and yanked her to her feet.

Christine let out a small cry as she could feel the bruises that would form under his firm grip and the heavy pressure. _Oh, God, please not this! _she thought. But Raoul pulled her to him, then used his other arm to grab the her left shoulder, and with a sudden violent shove he threw her against the wall. Her body connected with it with a sickening and a cry out pain thud that made Rosa loudly gasp and beg to Raoul.

"Please Monsieur! Oh please stop this!"

"_Get out!!!_" Raoul yelled back, though she didn't. He turned his gaze back to his fallen wife, who now lay crumpled on the ground, full-out sobbing while facing the wall. "Stop that horrible noise!"

But she couldn't. His frustration overcoming his desire to harm her, Raoul left the kitchen with an "argh!" and the women were left alone.

Rosa immediately rushed over to Christine, placing her hands gently on the terrified, trembling woman.

"Oh Madame… my dear Christine! I-I'm so sorry! I just don't know what to do anymore!" Rosa's pained expression expressed her extreme concern for the poor girl. "Oh come here, my child, it will all be alright now. I promise." Rosa thought hard. This was too horrible! She shouldn't have to fear her husband! No, she wouldn't get hurt anymore. It was just too much.

Christine had calmed somewhat from Rosa's words of comfort, and allowed her to help her sit up with her back against the wall. Rosa thought some more, seeing the misery in Christine's eyes… and her heart.

"Madame," she whispered quickly, and Christine wearily looked up at her. "You have to leave this place. You can't stay like this any longer! Oh…" She glanced around, and found no one to be near. They all distanced themselves when a scene like this occurred. "Christine… go. Just go! He's upstairs now, locked up in your bedroom no doubt. Please, this may be the only time no one can stop you! You can escape now!"

Christine considered only for a moment Rosa's plea, then nodded her head. Rosa gestured for Christine to stay put, and left for a moment. She returned with an old brown bag, and simply slung it over the now standing Christine's shoulder and across her torso.

The weight caused her to droop a bit, but she stood up again and looked at Rosa, who was doing something to her feet. Rosa had removed her own shoes, the signaled to Christine to lift her foot. The maid put her servant's shoes on Christine's feet, replacing her uncomfortable heels.

It was all so rushed, and after being beaten so, barely comprehendible to Christine. But somehow within a few minutes Rosa had given her comfortable shoes, two heavy shawls, dumped a few small coins into the bag she wore, and was pushing her out the servant's door in the back of the house.

"Just follow the main road straight, that way. It's nearly a full moon, so you'll have enough light during the night. It should only take a few days, three at most, to get to the marketplace. Travel at night, the won't catch you. Stay off the road! One you get into town, you can get a ride to wherever you need to go. You've got money, food, and enough to keep you warm. Now hurry! Go!" And she pushed Christine out the door. "Don't look back, and don't stop! Be careful!"

Christine gave her a quick hug, and quietly thanked her. They smiled at each other, and then Christine turned and ran as best she could into the night.

* * *

Whee! Grr Raoul. Sorry, he just annoys me. Had to make him evil. 

Review Responses:

**Kaya DC Pandora:** Yay my first reviewer! I try not to sound too cliché, glad you like it!

**Sarab:** Glad you liked it, and I am, of course, adding another chapter soon! Within the nezt three days probably.

**anonymous:** I'm happy I could finally give youa story you liked! Chapter three should be a long one.

**Countess Alana:** You'll have to see! (but if you want to know, all phics I read are E/C :)) I do plan on bringning Erik in in either the next chapter or the one after that. I'll see how this story goes with the readers first.

**Cerebralgoddess18:** I am with you all the freakin way! I heart him. The Phantom is the best ever! The movie was really good, though I can't remember if she ever called him Erik. I think they cut it out, grr. pout It would SO rock if Raoul was poof gone! Alternative ending? That would rock more. :)

**Sue Raven:** Anxious is good! Hope you liked chapter two, from here on it should pick up. Might discuss earlier events a bit in chapter three, though. Keep reading!

**Ceez: **Thanks for the enocouragement! But eep! I hope you don't like Raoulmuch (couldn't tell if you did, I am slightly challenged sometimes...), or I may have lost you as a reader! I hope not though, luv.

**michelle:** That's exactly why I started this. :) There were just SO many better endings, I had to make one! And yea, off the planet with him!

Wow I reread this and found so many freakin errors it scared me. I love spellcheck.


	3. Think of Me

Disclaimer: POTO is obviously not mine. If it were, Erik would get Christine.

Sigh.

Oh, and as promised (well, to myself at least), I bring Erik into the story! Hooray for The bestest phantom ever! (We'll just not mention he's the only POTO…) Anyway, in this chapter Christine runs about a bit, and eventually you will get your Erik. And I lost chapter title creativity so I just used the song I was listening to at the moment. It's sad. Oh well. On with the show! Or story. Phic. Just whatever I'll get on with it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Fading Light 

Chapter Two - Think of Me

The light behind her was quickly put out by the maid, completely covering her in darkness. The full moon didn't help her blend in with the shadows as much as she would have liked it to, but the pale dress refused to be influenced by the surrounding black. It was only when she was under the cover of trees and in the shade of the not-so-think trees that she began to not stand out as much. The trees seemed to be in her favor and had not lost but a quarter of their fire-colored leaves., permitting only small rays of moonlight to break through their screen.

Christine wondered how far it was to the town, not to mention to the Opera Populaire, and how far she could make it this first night in her current condition. Her arm and shoulder ached from the fierce bruises, her back sore from the collision with the wall, her neck tense from the snap, her right knee and ankle aching from the fall to the hard floor.

In other words, everything hurt. A sharp pain had developed in Christine's ankle, causing her to run (or something like that) with irregular steps. This put extra pressure on the already pained knee when the leg struck the ground with more force than usual, and only further increased her limp. It didn't help that she was carrying a fifteen or so pound bag.

Nevertheless, Christine traveled on until her body simply would not obey her and her legs gave out, and she fell to the cold and wet ground with a thud. She was already breathing heavily from the exercise she was obviously not used to, so when the breath was forced from her lungs she felt as if she were drowning and began to choke into the leaves.

After a few moment, though it seemed much longer to Christine, the air returned and she drank in the oxygen as if droning her sorrows with liquor. Once she had regained control over her body somewhat, she used all her strength to remove the bag and roll onto her back.

Her back hurt, a lot. Christine closed and squinched up her eyes, and clenched her jaw. She didn't know what type of persons would be on the road at this hour, which she didn't really know, but she wasn't risking being found. So she grimaced and tried to bear it, though she couldn't prevent little whimpers from escaping as she sat up and leaned against a tree trunk.

Christine instantly regretted sleeping in that position and not stretching her muscles after her great run the next morning. When the sun arose and woke her, Christine found she couldn't. She decided it didn't much matter anyway, she could reach her bag for a light breakfast, then travel a ways from the road to a safe place to rest until nightfall. She vowed that this time, she would pace herself and take better care of her body. It took Christine almost an hour to stand up.

When she did, and finally managed to put her legs back into working order and got her brain to function properly, Christine found a small area where the ground stopped and switched to a much lower level. Climbing down the small drop-off, and leaning against the dirt wall, she tended to her injuries and slept a deep and dreamless sleep.

-----------

Christine opened her eyes as sleep began to drift out of her to see the sun in the brilliant pink, purple, and blue painted sky. It took her a while to realize that it was indeed the sunset she was admiring, not the sunrise she had seen before her… supposed nap. Christine hadn't meant to sleep for almost twelve hours, just the minimum eight, so she could continue her hike through the woods.

_Oh well. I can't travel in broad daylight, so I really could only have continued an hour or so ago. I haven't lost too much time. _She sighed. _Best not to waste more though, it's only a matter of time until they realize I'm gone._ Christine's face put on a sad expression as she thought. _Oh dear, they probably already have!_

With that, she decided that it really was the time to go. Christine collected her things and walked slightly nearer to the road. Not so close as to be easily seen, but not so far as to not see the road and get lost.

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Raoul opened his eyes, but quickly and tightly shut them when the sunlight blasted them with its brightness. With a groan, he shoved the comforter and sheets off himself, irritated that it was the time to get up, and sat up on the edge of the king-size bed. Remembering the past night's events, he turned to look at his wife and began to think of various apologies he could make and excuses for his violent behavior.

Yet all thoughts of being forgiven flew from his mind as he realized that something was wrong. Raoul frowned and turned back around sharply, scanning the room for any explanation of this foreign situation to end his confusion. But he found none. His anger immediately became his prime emotion as he stood up and stomped to the door with the sole purpose of solving this unexpected mystery.

Christine wasn't there.

Every morning he would wake and she would be sleeping beside him, and remain there for some time until freshening up and joining him just before breakfast in the dining room. They usually ate without much conversation, only small comments and casual questions broke the awkward silence.

This now broken, unofficial tradition was waking him up more every moment, even more so than his morning coffee. Reasonable explanations such as an early rise to accomplish more during that day or help with breakfast were not present in his thoughts, which he soon voiced aloud.

As Raoul descended the stairs he searched the foyer for any person he might ask to find Christine's whereabouts. Upon reaching the dining room, he found the one person who might give him the answers he needed.

"Rosa, where the hell is my wife?!" He shouted at her, and slowly advanced. But she held her ground and frowned at him, clearly disapproving his behavior.

"I don't know, Monsieur, though if I did, I don't know if I would tell you." It was the truth, she really hadn't a clue to where Christine was, just that she was heading for town. "Oh, and one more thing. Based upon the events taking place in this household I have decided that I do not want to be surrounded by this atmosphere." Raoul looked at her skeptically, confused at the normally reserved and timid woman's words.

"I would not speak in such a tone and with such words if I were you, and if I wished to keep my job," he replied with a toneless voice.

"That's just the thing. You see, I can't stand it anymore here. I quit. I was just gathering the last of my things, see, like my slippers that I came across at the last second. Thought I'd lost them. But now that I have all my personal belongings, I will leave in the carriage I summoned quite some time ago. Goodbye."

Raoul was too shocked to protest. It was only after she had left that he remembered what he was doing and began to think of ways to find out where his wife was. Surely some of his contacts could point him in the right direction…

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It was truly night now, and Christine instantly regretted falling asleep and not planning ahead. She should have tended to her ankle and knee longer and worked more efficiently. She should have let it heal for a few hours. She should have left as soon as she was able. She should have moved it around to help speed healing. She should have stretched. She should have done a lot of things.

Christine's joints felt better, if only a little. But her muscles were unbelievingly sore and the stiffness prevented her from doing anything but a slow walk. _At this rate, it'll take me a week to get to town! Maybe even two!_ The thought was depressing, but at least tonight was a full moon. But that meant that in two weeks there would be no moonlight at all! She would have to get as far as possible-each day she would have less and less light to travel by.

Thinking like this was doing nothing for her but eat away at what little resolve she had, which she couldn't afford to lose. Not now. Not when she had just left her prison and become free! But she still had a long way to go. Christine picked up the bottom of her dress, and forced her legs to walk faster. It was all she could manage, but it would have to suffice for now.

Soon after she had quickened her pace, Christine heard a noise coming from behind her on the road. Both terrified and curious, she gave into her curiosity and moved swiftly and quietly (as much as she was able) closer to the road and crouched behind a tree. Christine didn't have the eyes of a hawk, but the carriage was moving at a medium speed and she could soon tell that it was occupied by two women. There may have been more, but she could hear their loud voices laughing at some obviously hilarious joke.

Surely they weren't searching for her, or even knew who she was. Most likely they were heading home after a late night out. _Out where?_ she thought. But it didn't matter. They were going her direction and at a much greater speed. Christine had to take the risk. I could be the deciding factor between freedom and capture. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the aching pain arising in her body, and staggered into the road.

The coachman saw something move in front of his vehicle, and quickly stopped the two horses pulling it. With further observation he determined it was a person. A person, though, out at this hour? It seemed unlikely, but he wasn't mistaken. Stepping down from his seat, he walked to the window and told the two women, for indeed it was only the two, that he had stopped for a reason and would be back shortly.

The driver then proceeded to investigate this unexpected obstacle. He went over to it, and as he became closer he discovered that not only was it a person, but a woman, and a battered one indeed. Concern swept over him as he went to her slouching body. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle? What, why-_oh, my_. Are you alright?"

Christine had no strength left, and could only respond with a faint "unnngh" before she gave in to her exhaustion and collapsed to her knees. She managed to whisper out a bit more, and it was only because the coachman had bent down to steady her with his hands lightly on her shoulders that he heard. "Please… help… can I… carriage?"

He didn't know what to do. But he knew that he couldn't just leave her there in such a state. He turned around to look back at the carriage for a moment, and one of his hands slipped down her shoulder and onto her upper arm. The coachman turned his attention back to her as she let out a small yelp from the contact on her injury where Raoul had yanked her to her feet with great force.

"Oh, my. Well let's get you up. Come along now, can't have you out alone like this. I'm sure the ladies will understand…"

"Jacques! Jacques, what's going on out there?" The older of the two women peeked out the side window and saw Jacques returning to the carriage… with… what was that??? He was half-carrying some-it had to be a person-someone towards them. She looked closer and found it to be a young woman, dirty and quite obviously in need of rest, but otherwise very pretty. The woman then realized what a horrid condition this stray woman was in when Jacques brought her up to the window.

"Madame, it's this woman. She was right in the middle of the road just now… I-I really can't just leave her here… would you mind if I-"

"Oh, my word! Quickly! Get her inside before she faints! The poor thing, good heavens!" The old woman was obviously worried about the stranger, and kindly helped her inside the vehicle as Jacques returned to the front and urged the horses on. Christine was finally able to give up all efforts of staying awake and as soon as she was seated, next to the younger woman (though she couldn't tell who was what and so on until much later), she fell asleep straight away, and didn't wake until they had arrived at their destination, the ladies' home.

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Christine could hardly recall the blurred period from when she stopped the carriage to when she awoke in a strange bed. She was told later how she was taken inside the house and fell back asleep before she could answer any of the many questions her helpers had. During her three-day stay, Christine was cleaned up injury-wise and had almost completely healed (save the bruises), given new clothes, fed, bathed, and in general physically renewed.

She told the two women-the only people she mat in the house-that she was simply leaving her husband because of an unstable marriage, and her coach had become damaged and unable to work, and she began to walk in one direction while her driver the other. Christine couldn't tell if they believed all this, or the claim that she was going to town just to get a carriage to take her to her aunt's, but they didn't push for details.

With fresh supplies and a refreshed body, Christine set out to continue her journey in a coach that the two kind souls had hired for her. Her new dress wasn't the most expensive or fancy thing she'd ever worn, but the pale blue fabric was a nice fit that wasn't very lacey and lacked the multitudes of ruffled she disliked. The dress complemented her figure without being too immodest, with a round boat-neck that revealed some shoulder and her collarbone, but no bruises. The one adorning her face was still there, it had been so serious that even now it looked remotely fresh. But still she was able to hide it within the shade of her lovely hair, and no one could tell there was anything there at all.

So Christine bid them farewell, and promised that someday she would repay them for the kindness, even though they insisted they were happy just to help her.

Christine had no idea on Raoul's progress in his search, or even if he had started one. She had no evidence to help her decide of the importance of a quick pace. So she simply took the carriage to the nearest town, stocked up on supplies, listened for rumors about her situation, and prepared to leave for her final destination-the Opera House.

All she was able to learn was that many knew of her strange disappearance, but no reasons had surfaced yet. Christine was amazed that no one recognized her-or that they had but didn't point it out. Perhaps her luck was finally going to improve. She only hoped fate would be so kind to her a bit longer. Christine decided she would enjoy lazing about for another hour or so, then call a carriage and head to the Opera under the veil of the night. Little did she know what was headed her way.

Or perhaps… who was heading her way.

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It is said that some arrogant people who refuse to consider any view but their own see things in black and white. The expression left the in-between shades of grey to the thinkers and the wise.

But it is by all means simply an expression, and no doubt that most people can see the many vibrant colors scattered across their vision quite clearly. But as far as decisiveness goes, during the night, his mind thought only in the two contrasting colors. The color that covered everything and extended the shadows was black-which was really not one color at all, but all of them combined. Its opposite was also not actually a color, but the absence of it.

This lack of color, however, this brilliant white, could only be found in two places during this late hour. The sky, sprinkled with the many lights that were stars and the great globe reflecting the light of the hidden sun was one. The other was only seen by the moon's stolen light when it shone upon the smooth and reflective surface of the mask, when it was only illuminated for a brief second whenever the hood on his black cloak slipped away.

But the dark was his friend, or at least his only consistent one. It was only after most of Paris had gone to bed that he was able to roam the streets freely without being overly cautious. Sometimes he would visit the local market and purchase some fresh fruits or vegetables just before it closed near midnight. Because of the large sums of money he paid at the stands, no merchant ever questioned his appearance, identity, or mysterious demeanor. His choice to pay more than necessary for the goods got his message across to them clearly-not to meddle in his affairs.

For he, most certainly was not a man to be meddled with. No sensible man would attempt to stir his anger , and those who were not sensible enough to mess with a man of his build and his cold attitude were often not heard from again. He was feared, a danger to any that crossed him. And none dared to. Death would be their punishment. From his appearance at night he could have been death itself, perhaps the grim reaper.

A shadow. A menace. Death looming in the darkness. A monster.

And his name was Nadir.

(Ha just kidding! Hahaha! XD Did I get you? I hope a chuckle at least. It was all dark and spooky, so I had to lighten it up a bit. Just cut out the two above lines for the actual parts in the chapter. HA I'm soooo high on sugar and it's like 1am so pwease don't laugh at me. Whoo I'm ok now. Here we go. Heehee.)

But he was not so shallow and cruel and to strike or harm a woman. He simply ignored any that irritated him and left if necessary.

Few cases of such encounters arose because of his excursions limited to nighttime. He mostly came out of his home to get fresh air and move his body about. It wouldn't do to stay cooped up in the lair forever. Though he could not deny to himself that he had done just that for over a year after that night.

He thought about simply ending his ghostly ways and leaving the Opera House alone, no longer making threats and the likes. But after a while of pretending The Opera Ghost was gone for good, he found himself missing it despite the memories attached. So once again the Phantom of the Opera came alive, and continued to criticize the lack of talent and organization there, and of course not forgetting to remind the ignorant managers of his ownership of box five and the expected salary.

Yes, they were greatly discouraged. And he found it quite amusing indeed.

He also found it amusing, or rather odd, that no one had stayed in her dressing room since she had left.

But all these musings were put back into reserve for when he was bored and needed to entertain his mind when the sound of wooden wheels on stone reached his ears. He moved to the side with grace as it rolled past him, and suddenly felt an extremely strong sense of déjà vu. His instincts were telling him that what he wanted to believe was true, but his mind shoved them away with doubt. Nevertheless, he hastily made his way back to the Opera Populaire as he recalled a strange illusion he had witnessed earlier that day.

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Erik had been out just a few hours ago, as the sun was setting, just to people watch. It had become an odd habit, not so much a hobby, of his. He would stand under the shadows of trees and simply observe the people interacting with each other and going about their business as they pleased. Usually it was just a way to pass the time, for there wasn't much Erik had for entertainment these days.

But it was different that day. It was different in that as he was turning to leave and go back to his home, something flashy caught his eye some ways away. A pale, light blue that stood out among the plain browns and greys of the other ordinary clothing in the crowd. The sharp contrast grabbed his attention, and with a closer look he determined it was a dress. From the distance and the bad light he could barely make out the wearer, but he could tell it was a small woman, petite, even.

It only took moments for him to realize how familiar the silhouette was. Oh, how could he ever forget the figure that plagued his thoughts night and day from the moment his eyes fell upon it? Never would he not know by heart the color, shape, and softness of that cascading hair down her pale back, and across her slender and elegant shoulders. He had touched them, once. He had been so very close to her. And now he saw her. Right in front of him. The body almost glowed against the ordinary colors surrounding it.

And in an instant she was gone. The light went out, and all was muddy colored and dull again. It was like a wisp of mist had swept through and played with his mind. But his long-lasting, not-forgotten fantasies would not allow him to let the image slip away. So without thinking, he lurched out of the dark and into the crowd.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the end of the day clean up and last-second shopping, no one stopped to look at him or stare. Erik pushed and shoved through the already pushy masses, his eyes darting across the heads below him. But even though he towered over the people and had a wide range of vision and good eyes, he just could not find the piece of heaven he had witnessed just moments ago.

And though somehow he knew it wasn't real, nothing stopped the fleeting feeling of loss from overwhelming him and the sense that his dreams were once again slipping through his fingers from coming. It was a draining feeling, as if part of him was, yet again, being sucked away and leaving him empty in places. Mostly, it was his heart.

Erik decided it would do him good to take a short nap, and he headed back to the Opera. It was probably a good idea for him to get out more, the dark and wetness of his place must have been what was making him hallucinate. And he did not want to imagine that again. Once was enough to almost kill him, a repeat might finish the job.

That apparition he'd seen, it had given him this strange feeling. It took a while for it to register in his mind that it was the same familiar feeling that he'd had just now. Erik picked up his speed, and forced his thoughts to stop wandering. They would only create false hope, which would only create devastation and wreak havoc upon his heart.

* * *

BLEARGH so sorry this took like forever and a day to do. Was sick, and it was bad. But yay Erik's here now! That makes me happy. Hope it makes you happy, too. Feedback's also another happy concept. Review! 

**Review Responses:**

**Ceez:** Ah, so glad you've kept up with this story! Don't worry, I'll def. Make him p off!

**Tactics**: Sorry, I did keep you waiting. Oops… heh… hope this makes up for it!

**Kaya DC Pandora**: Hehe, can you see me not letting Christy get revenge on Raoul? Hope not!

**Aries-chica56:** Pay, yes, not sure about death thou…

**KButler:** I'm not patient either, hehe. Go us.

Thanks y'all so much!


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